The Mysteries of Paris, Volume 1 of 6. Эжен Сю
minute, a minute, fourline, – let me say a word! You shall walk into these two 'muffs' all the same, presently."
The Schoolmaster looked at her with astonishment. For some minutes she had been looking at Fleur-de-Marie with fixed and increasing attention, as if trying to refresh her memory. At length no doubt remained, and she recognised the Goualeuse.
"Is it possible?" she cried, clasping her hands in astonishment. "It is Pegriotte, who stole my barley-sugar. But where do you come from? Is it the devil who sends you back?" and she shook her clenched hand at the young girl. "You won't come into my clutch again, eh? But be easy; if I do not pull out your teeth, I will have out of your eyes every tear in your body. Come, no airs and graces. You don't know what I mean. Why, I have found out the people who had the care of you before you were handed over to me. The Schoolmaster saw at the Pré (the galleys) the man who brought you to my 'crib' when you were a brat, and he has proofs that the people who had you first were 'gentry coves'" (rich people).
"My parents! Do you know them?" cried Fleur-de-Marie.
"Never mind whether I know them or not, you shall know nothing about it. The secret is mine and my fourline's, and I will tear out his tongue rather than he shall blab it. What! it makes you snivel, does it, Pegriotte?"
"Oh, no," said Goualeuse, with a bitterness of accent; "now I do not care ever to know my parents."
Whilst La Chouette was speaking, the Schoolmaster had resumed his assurance, for, looking at Rodolph, he could not believe that a young man of slight and graceful make could for a moment cope with him, and, confident in his brutal force, he approached the defender of Goualeuse, and said to the Chouette, in an imperious voice:
"Hold your jaw! I'll tackle with this swell, and then the fair lady may think me more to her fancy than he is."
With one bound Rodolph leaped on the table.
"Take care of my plates!" shouted the ogress.
The Schoolmaster stood on his guard, his two hands in front, his chest advanced, firmly planted on his legs, and arched, as it were, on his brawny legs, which were like balusters of stone. At the moment when Rodolph was springing at him, the door of the tapis-franc opened with violence, and the charcoal-man, of whom we have before spoken, and who was upwards of six feet high, dashed into the apartment, pushed the Schoolmaster on one side rudely, and coming up to Rodolph, said, in German, in his ear:
"Monseigneur, the countess and her brother – they are at the end of the street."
At these words Rodolph made an impatient and angry gesture, threw a louis d'or on the bar of the ogress, and made for the door in haste. The Schoolmaster attempted to arrest Rodolph's progress, but he, turning to him, gave him two or three rapid blows with his fists over the nose and eyes, and with such potent effect, that the beast staggered with very giddiness, and fell heavily against a table, which alone prevented his prostration on the floor.
"Vive la Charte! those are my blows, – I know them," cried the Chourineur; "two or three more lessons like that, and I shall know all about it."
Restored to himself after a few moments, the Schoolmaster darted off in pursuit of Rodolph, but he had disappeared with the charcoal-man in the dark labyrinth of the streets of the Cité, and the brigand found it useless to follow.
At the moment when the Schoolmaster had returned, foaming with rage, two persons, approaching from the opposite side to that by which Rodolph had disappeared, entered into the tapis-franc, hastily, and out of breath, as if they had been running far and fast. Their first impulse was to look around the room.
"How unfortunate!" said one of them; "he has gone, – another opportunity lost."
The two newcomers spoke in English. The Goualeuse, horror-struck at meeting with the Chouette, and dreading the threats of the Schoolmaster, took advantage of the tumult and confusion caused by the arrival of the two fresh guests in the tapis-franc, and, quietly gliding out by the half-opened door, left the cabaret.
CHAPTER VI
THOMAS SEYTON AND THE COUNTESS SARAH
The two persons who had just entered the tapis-franc were quite of another class from those who ordinarily frequented it. One, tall and erect, had hair almost white, black eyebrows and whiskers, a long and tanned face, with a stiff, formal air. His long frock coat was buttoned up to the throat, à la militaire. We shall call this individual Thomas Seyton. His companion was young, pale, and handsome, and appeared about thirty-one or two years of age. His hair, eyebrows, and eyes were of a deep black, which showed off the more fully the pure whiteness of his face. By his step, the smallness of his stature, and the delicacy of his features, it was easy to detect a woman in male habiliments. This female was the Countess Sarah Macgregor. We will hereafter inform our readers of the motives and events which had brought the countess and her brother into this cabaret of the Cité.
"Call for something to drink, Thomas, and ask the people here about him; perhaps they may give us some information," said Sarah, still speaking English.
The man with white hair and black eyebrows sat down at a table, whilst Sarah was wiping her forehead, and said to the ogress, in excellent French, "Madame, let us have something to drink, if you please."
The entrance of these two persons into the tapis-franc had excited universal attention. Their dress, their manners, all announced that they never frequented low drinking-shops, whilst, by their restless looks and disturbed countenances, it might be judged that some very powerful motives had led them hither. The Chourineur, the Schoolmaster, and the Chouette viewed them with increasing curiosity.
Startled by the appearance of such strange customers, the ogress shared in the general surprise. Thomas Seyton, a second time, and with an impatient tone, said, "We have called for something to drink, ma'am; pray let us have it."
Mother Ponisse, flattered by their courtesy of manner, left her bar, and, coming towards her new guests, leaned her arms on their table, and said, "Will you have a pint of wine in measure or a bottle?"
"A bottle of wine, glasses, and some water."
The ogress brought the supplies demanded, and Thomas Seyton threw her a five-franc piece, and refused the change which she offered to him.
"Keep it, my good woman, for yourself, and perhaps you will take a glass with us."
"You're uncommon purlite, sir," looking at the countess's brother with as much surprise as gratitude.
"But tell me, now," said he; "we had appointed to meet a friend in a cabaret in this street, and have, perhaps, mistaken the house in coming here."
"This is the 'White Rabbit,' at your service, sir."
"That's right enough, then," said Thomas, making a sign to Sarah; "yes, it was at the 'White Rabbit' that he was to give us the meeting."
"There are not two 'White Rabbits' in this street," said the ogress, with a toss of her head. "But what sort of a person was your friend?"
"Tall, slim, and with hair and moustaches of light chestnut," said Seyton.
"Exactly, exactly; that's the man who has just gone out. A charcoal-man, very tall and stout, came in and said a few words to him, and they left together."
"The very man we want to meet," said Tom.
"Were they alone here?" inquired Sarah.
"Why, the charcoal-man only came in for one moment; but your comrade supped here with the Chourineur and Goualeuse;" and with a nod of her head, the ogress pointed out the individual of the party who was left still in the cabaret.
Thomas and Sarah turned towards the Chourineur. After contemplating him for a few minutes, Sarah said, in English, to her companion, "Do you know this man?"
"No; Karl lost all trace of Rodolph at the entrance of these obscure streets. Seeing Murphy disguised as a charcoal-seller, keeping watch about this cabaret, and constantly peeping through the windows, he was afraid that something wrong was going on, and so came to warn us. Murphy, no doubt, recognised him."
During this conversation, held